War is like a fire. One man may start it, but it will spread all over. It is not about any one thing in particular.
You run a grave risk, my boy," said the magician, "of being turned into a piece of bread, and toasted.
Mordred and Agravaine thought Arthur hypocritical—as all decent men must be, if you assume that decency can’t exist.
All forms of collectivism are mistaken, according to the human skull.
You think education is something to be done when all else fails?
Kings can only use their best tools.
The Victorians had not been anxious to go away for the weekend. The Edwardians, on the contrary, were nomadic.
Wars are never fought for one reason," he said. "They are fought for dozens of reasons, in a muddle.
It has to be admitted that starving nations never seem to be quite so starving that they cannot afford to have far more expensive armaments than anybody else.
I will tell you something else, King, which may be a surprise for you. It will not happen for hundreds of years, but both of us are to come back.
The nice thing about the queen of Flanders' daughter, had been that she did not laugh at him. A lot of people laughed at you when you went after the Questing Beast - and never caught it - but Piggy never laughed. She seemed to understand at once how interesting it was, and made several sensible suggestions about the way to trap it. Naturally, one did not pretend to be clever or anything, but it was nice not to be laughed at. One was doing one's best.
There were thousands of brown books in leather bindings, some chained to the book-shelves and others propped against each other as if they had had too much to drink and did not really trust themselves. These gave out a smell of must and solid brownness which was most secure.
Kay was older and bigger than the Wart, so that he was bound to win in the end, but he was more nervous and imaginative. He could imagine the effect of each blow that was aimed at him, and this weakened his defense. Wart was only an infuriated hurricane.
Jenny, all my life I have wanted to do miracles. I have wanted to be holy. I suppose it was ambition or pride or some other unworthy thing. It was not enough for me to conquer the world--I wanted to conquer heaven too.
A chaos of mind and body - a time for weeping at sunsets and at the glamour of moonlight - a confusion and profusion of beliefs and hopes, in God, in Truth, in Love, and in Eternity - an ability to be transported by the beauty of physical objects - a heart to ache or swell- a joy so hoyful and a sorrow so sorrowful that oceans could lie between them.
The fate of this man or that man was less than a drop, although it was a sparkling one, in the great blue motion of the sunlit sea.
The fisherman fishes as the urchin eats cream buns, from lust.
She hardly ever thought of him. He had worn a place for himself in some corner of her heart, as a sea shell, always boring against the rock, might do. The making of the place had been her pain. But now the shell was safely in the rock. It was lodged, and ground no longer.
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